This Ordinary Life
by mokatster
Summary: The Pevensie siblings search for significance. A series of one-shots set between LWW and PC.


**This Ordinary Life**

_Chapter one: The Other Side_

by: mokatster

Summary: Another game of hide and seek on another rainy day. But recreating circumstances isn't enough to bring them back to the place they love.

**A/N:** Hey all! This work is going to be a series of one-shots that reveal life between the movies "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe" and "Prince Caspian." I picked movieverse simply because the movies depict the children's struggle to adjust to life in England (most especially in Peter's case). (Though in cases where it's convenient, I will mention moments from the books--there's actually one in this chapter!) I'm hoping to accurately capture the distinct emotions and reactions of each of the Pevensies as they attempt to adjust to life in England once again, showing how they develop and change since the end of LWW. This first chapter takes place immediately after LWW and the final chapter will end just before the beginning of PC.

**_Disclaimer: _**I don't own any part of the Narnia series. But I won't deny that I am pretty much in love with C.S. Lewis.

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The rain pattered softly and steadily against the window, running in rivulets down the pane. Sometimes the individual water trails petered out by themselves; other times they collided with a stationary droplet, forming an even larger bead of water. And sometimes the rain just left a smattering of drops that clung to the glass and didn't run at all.

Edmund, having sat by the window for a good thirty minutes, had made all these observations several times and finally decided to explore the bookshelves in search of more stimulating entertainment. Susan had been engrossed in her own novel the entire time they'd been in here and Peter—Edmund looked up from the current book he was examining to glance at his brother. Peter had a book open on his lap, but he wasn't reading. He rested his head on one hand, staring unseeingly at the wall opposite his chair. Lucy was still staring out the window; but whether she was looking at the drops on the glass, the dismal grounds outside, or something only she could see was unknown to Edmund.

He sighed to himself. It had been two days since they had returned to England at the precise moment they'd left. They had found everything unchanged. But _they_ were different. Incredible things had happened to them and they had done incredible things themselves. They had spent a lifetime—an incredible, impossible, completely wonderful lifetime—in an entirely different world. They had learned the meaning of temptation, loyalty, sacrifice, honor…and love. Ruling together, under the guidance and blessing of Aslan Himself, there was nothing he and siblings couldn't have done.

Edmund sighed again. But that hardly mattered now, because they couldn't do anything like that here in England. Especially since it was raining. And if they hadn't known what to do with themselves on rainy days before going to Narnia, they certainly didn't now.

He suppressed the urge to throw the book as hard as he could against the wall. He wanted to do _something_, something other than sit around and be miserable. He wanted—he swallowed, knowing that what he really wanted was unattainable.

Unless they could somehow get back through the wardrobe.

Edmund frowned. They hadn't actually _tried_ to get back. Who was to say they couldn't? He shut his book, wondering whether or not he should suggest they go investigate.

If they found the way to Narnia open still—he tried to stifle the excitement that rose within him at the thought. It wouldn't do to get his hopes up only to have them dashed. Because there remained that awful possibility that the wardrobe was—just that. An ordinary wardrobe and a doorway no longer.

And that is exactly what Susan would point out. Peter would probably go along with his suggestion, pretending not to be expecting much, but Edmund knew his hopes would be unrealistically high. And Lucy—of course, she would be the most hopeful of them all and the most dreadfully disappointed should it all go wrong. No, he couldn't say anything to them.

But he had to do _something_ or he was going to go mad. He stuffed the book back on the shelf and stumped over to the armchair next to Peter's. He collapsed into it with a heavy sigh. Peter shot him an understanding glance but then turned back to his book.

"I'm _bored_," Edmund declared, and then winced inwardly. He hadn't meant for that to come out quite as whiny as it had. "We should do something."

"There's nothing to do, Ed," Susan murmured, not looking up.

Edmund looked up at Lucy, who had come to stand by his chair.

"We could play hide-and-seek," he suggested softly, looking up at her and raising his eyebrows questioningly. Lucy opened her mouth to say something, but--

Susan frowned. "I'm not playing that again."

Edmund scowled.

"Oh come off it, Su. You don't mean to say that book is really all that interesting?"

Susan slammed it shut.

"Actually, it _is_," she snapped. "And since I can't seem to read any of it in here, I'll go somewhere I _can_!" She stood and stalked out of the room. Peter sighed.

"Ed, why did you have to do that?"

Edmund turned his scowl on his brother.

"I didn't do _anything_! She's the one who's always such a stick in the mud."

Peter looked at him exasperatedly.

"Ed, we've all been on edge, ever since—" he swallowed. "You shouldn't go around making it worse."

Edmund bit back a retort and settled back into his chair. He knew Peter was right. But that didn't mean he couldn't be irritated with Susan, either.

"So," he ventured again after a long silence. "Anyone up for hide-and-seek?"

Lucy smiled—her first real smile all day, Edmund realized. "I'll play."

Peter shrugged, looking as if he really didn't care either way. "I'll count if you two want to go and hide." He hid his face and began. "One…two…three…"

Edmund jumped up and was off like a shot.

He had been planning on heading straight for the wardrobe, but as he rounded the corner, he nearly ran into Mrs. Macready.

"Bah!" she shrieked as she clutched a vase of flowers closer to her chest, shielding it from impact and the other forms of destruction she believed children capable of. "What did I say to you about tearing around this house, young man?"

Edmund muttered an apology and made to go around her, but the housekeeper sidestepped, blocking his path.

"I've set these rules for a reason," she huffed, glaring at him sternly over her spectacles and prodding him in the chest with a bony index finger. "The next time I see you running through this house as if you were on the football pitch, you'll lend a hand with the cleaning. And believe me, by the time you're finished you'll be so exhausted you'll never want to move—let alone run—again! Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Edmund mumbled, keeping his eyes fixed penitently on the floor.

"Hmph."

After glaring sternly at him for another moment or two, the Macready continued on her brisk way. Edmund waited until she rounded the corner before he took off again. After hurrying through several more corridors, he realized he was nowhere near the wardrobe room.

_Blast_, it was too easy to get lost in this house. Incredible, how he could navigate the labyrinth of Cair Paravel effortlessly, but the much-smaller Professor's house left him dizzy. Edmund skidded to a halt and tried to retrace his steps in his mind.

_There_, he thought triumphantly. He'd swerved left after running into the Macready when he should've gone right. And Peter was probably nearly done counting by now…

He skulked through the corridors between him and the wardrobe, on the lookout for Peter and the housekeeper. Finally, he reached the door without encountering either of them. He breathed a sigh of relief and lifted the latch, slipping quickly inside and closing the door behind him.

He had pictured himself rushing toward the wardrobe in his eagerness to see what was inside, but now that he was here, trepidation rooted him to the spot. He stared at the wardrobe and suddenly realized the door was slightly ajar.

Was someone already in there?

He crossed the room and pulled the wardrobe door all the way open. He glanced quickly over his shoulder and plunged in among the soft fur coats, pulling the door mostly closed behind him. He held his hands out in front of him, pushing his way through the coats, hoping to soon feel the needles of the trees of Lantern Waste pricking his palms.

Suddenly, his knees collided against something and he staggered, catching himself on—the back of the wardrobe. As disappointment welled inside of him, he looked down to see what had caused him to stumble.

It was Lucy.

She had been kneeling with her forehead against the wood, her hands flat against the surface, fingers splayed out, as if she could push her way into Narnia. She jerked and looked up sharply when she felt Edmund's knees on her back. The desperation in her eyes matched his own, and he felt his heart clench painfully inside his chest. They held each other's gaze for several heartbeats. Then, carefully stepping to the side, Edmund put his back to the wall and slid down it to join Lucy on the floor.

She sighed and shifted to a more comfortable position, settling closer to Edmund than he normally would have tolerated. But he found that now, at just that moment, he didn't really mind. For several minutes the two just sat there, each taking comfort in the other's presence.

"Do you remember when it rained in Narnia?" Lucy asked suddenly.

Edmund looked at her, puzzled.

"It rained more than once, Lu."

Lucy shook her head. "No, I mean the first time it rained! Do you remember that huge party?"

Edmund smiled at the recollection. "They'd seen nothing but snow in Narnia for the past hundred years. They were so excited to see rain, for once." He laughed. "Do you remember that song the baby Birds wrote about it? How did it go?" He hummed experimentally. "The rain is delightful, it's better than feathers—"

"—even if we can't fly, we'll want the wet weather!" Lucy finished, clasping her hands together delightedly. Her smile looked wide enough to split her face in two. "I can't believe you remember that, Ed! Do you know all of it?"

"Yes, unfortunately I know every nonsensical word," he groaned. "They sang it so many times I had it memorized before the party even started! I'm surprised you don't remember it!" He grinned at her. "But you did fall asleep, so I suppose you can be forgiven."

Lucy pouted. "I wasn't used to staying up that late," she muttered defensively.

"Thank the Lion they stopped after making up that song, though," Edmund chuckled. "Their poetry was awful. It didn't even make sense half the time!"

Lucy shot him a glare, which was softened when she giggled. "Ed, that's not nice. They were funny! And at least they tried!"

Edmund rolled his eyes. "I was actually quite surprised that rain could be enjoyed that much," he said quietly. "It's bothersome here. Turns perfectly good days into dreadfully boring ones."

They were silent for a few moments.

"I'm sorry," Lucy whispered suddenly.

Edmund looked down, and saw that her eyes were full of tears.

"What for?" he asked, startled. "I don't care that you forgot the birdsong, Lu," he joked weakly.

She looked up at him, her face tragic.

"I'm sorry for wanting to find out what was beyond the lamppost," she choked out, swiping at her eyes. "Because if I hadn't, then—" she started to sob. "We would've—j-just gone on to—f-follow the stag and—" Then suddenly, she was a trembling, sobbing mess in Edmund's arms. Bewildered, he awkwardly patted her on the back.

He hadn't even once thought to blame Lucy for leading them back through the wardrobe. Surely she must know that neither he nor the others faulted her in the slightest? They had all agreed to go, after all. Edmund cast his eyes desperately around the inside of the wardrobe, as if he could find a way to comfort his sister dangling from the sleeve of a coat or stamped on the wood paneling.

"Lucy," he murmured, desperate to have her stop crying. "Lucy, we all wanted to go. You didn't make any of us—"

"Susan didn't!" she interjected, pulling away from Edmund but keeping her face hidden in her hands. "We should've listened to her! And now—now we'll never go back!"

Edmund didn't answer. His heart, which had lightened a little as they reminisced, dropped back down to settle like a heavy stone in his stomach. Narnia had been everything for them. They'd lived there for so long; as kings and queens, they'd given their very lives to that land and its people. It felt so empty, being back in England. Who were they here? He didn't want to stay here; this wasn't where they belonged. But it seemed they had no choice in the matter.

Suddenly, wardrobe door swung wide and light flooded the interior. The coats parted, revealing Peter's concerned face. He must have heard Lucy's sobs.

For a few moments, there was silence, broken only by Lucy sniffling. Peter's eyes took in the sight of his two younger siblings tangled together on the floor of the wardrobe. He looked at Lucy's tear-streaked face, met Edmund gaze briefly, and then flicked up above them to acknowledge the paneling barring them from Narnia.

Then Peter held the coats further apart and jerked his head, motioning for them to come out. Edmund gave Lucy a gentle push. She crawled through the space Peter had created between the coats and hopped out, Edmund close behind her.

As soon as she emerged, Peter took Lucy's hand and sat down on the floor, pulling her into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her and smoothed her hair comfortingly as she started to sob again.

Edmund closed the door to the wardrobe and stood awkwardly against it, watching his siblings. He couldn't remember the last time things had been so miserable. Peter looked at him over Lucy's head, and the sadness in his eyes made Edmund's stomach clench. Keeping a still-crying Lucy close with one arm, Peter held out the other to Edmund, inviting him to join the embrace.

He hesitated for a brief instant before sitting next to his brother. Peter wrapped his arm around Edmund's shoulders and pulled him close. As he leaned comfortably into Peter, the full disappointment and reality of what had just happened hit him.

Narnia was closed to them. They weren't going back.

Tears burned in his eyes and in his throat. He sniffed, trying valiantly to keep them from falling. The arm around his shoulders tightened.

"It's okay," Peter murmured. "It's going to be okay." He kissed Lucy on the head and rubbed Edmund's arm comfortingly. "I promise we're going to be okay."

Edmund had been so busy concentrating on not embarrassing himself that it took him a few minutes to listen to what Peter was saying. It took him another few moments to realize that he believed him. If Peter said it was going to be all right, then it would.

He wrapped an arm around Peter and reached out to clasp Lucy's hand. Though Narnia was now lost to them, they still had each other. And for now, that was enough.

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**A/N:** Not all chapters are written; they will be added as the inspiration strikes! If there's anything specific you would like to see, please let me know! And as always, any and all reviews will be greatly appreciated! (I'd especially love your thoughts on this chapter, since I'm not particularly fond of it. Let me know what needs to be fixed!) Thanks for reading!


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